SECOND – I FEEL LIKE SHIT. I DON’T KNOW WHY. MY STOMACH HURTS LIKE YUCK.
THIRD: ONTO THE BULK OF THE POST…
WARNING: NOT WEIGHT LOSS RELATED. HISTORY OF MY RELATIONSHIP WITH MY HUSBAND, LEADING UP TO OUR IMPENDING DIVORCE. MORE OF A VENT/RANT/STORYLINE
Will I ever know what it feels like not to walk on egg shells?
Will I ever know what it means to do what I know is best and not be questioned or berated?
Will I ever know what it means to be happy? Will I ever know how it feels to be free?
Will I ever be happy? Will I ever be free?
In case you are new to my blog(s) or just haven't read back far enough here is a little history/timeline on my (ex) husband and myself.
I met my husband the summer after my sophomore in high school. I was 15. This was the second consecutive summer that two life-altering events had occurred. The summer before my best friend and I had sent a 43-year-old man to jail on several dozen counts of rape/statutory rape/etc. That was not a fun summer. But when I met my husband, I was on top of the world. My first job, my first REAL boyfriend and my first love. Awww (((choke choke ahem))) It was never a match made in heaven. To start he was 9 years older than me. So September of 2000 he turned 25 and October of 2000 I turned 16. Hmmm… I didn’t think it was disgusting at the time, but now looking back, I can’t imagine what a 25 year old man saw in a 15-16 year old girl besides what was in my pants. On top of the age problem was the language barrier. He spoke Spanish. I didn’t. He could unintelligibly say two word sentences in English.
Somehow, though we got around that. He kissed me for the first time in September and then on my 16th birthday he brought me 3 dozen roses, stuffed animals and a ring. A really awesome ring actually that had a gold heart that spun (sounds cheesy but it wasn’t) It wasn’t long after we became girlfriend and boyfriend that I thought he should know about what had happened the summer before. There was no way I could convey what I wanted to him with spoken words so I had a mutually close friend translate a letter from English to Spanish, explaining it. BIG MISTAKE. He has never forgiven ME for what happened to ME. To this day when he brings it up, he says it’s my fault. ((Shakes head sadly)) We didn’t speak for days after I told him and when we saw each other at work or when I called him, we fought. One night after a particularly miscommunicated telephone call, he let me know in not so many words that the promise ring I had given him would be more suitable for a prostitute. That was how much (little) the ring meant to him (his words)
In November 2000 he had an accident at one of his 3, yes 3, jobs where a faulty paper cutting machine severed his ring, middle and index fingers from his right hand. They were unable to replace them. (But he wouldn’t find this out until 2 months later when they undressed his bandages) I begged my mom (who forbade me to see him let alone go out with him) to let me go see him in the hospital. She finally said ok.
Through the first year of our relationship, there was much miscommunication. I took Spanish classes in high school and he took adult education English classes at the local adult Ed school. Our language barrier got lower but even as it dissipated things that were said, were misconstrued. Something I said in English, translated into Spanish would be rude or vice versa. I once said something casually in passing, like ‘does your mother make good food?’ and he went completely spaz on me because I said ‘your mother’ instead of ‘your mom’. He didn’t let me live that down for weeks. Another subject that was sensitive to me was his ex girlfriend. The one directly preceding me. The one who he constantly compared me to. The one he referred to as having a ‘beautiful body’. The one who was everything in a nutshell. No really. A literal nutshell. She was bonkers. He told me he had to take her home to Mexico and on the flight home; she was frothing at the mouth and peeing herself. Ummm… nice. (((Now looking back maybe he was the cause of that cuz sometimes I think I’ll go bat shit crazy cuz of him)))
Sex came about after I turned 17 and he was like the friggin energizer bunny. I hated it. That’s ALL he ever wanted. I started visiting him less and less. I tried to break up with him even. But he always guilted me into staying, crying on the phone how much he loved me, how much he needed me and how much I was hurting him. So, when I would actually choose to go visit him, knowing full well what he’d want I would instead turn on the TV, lie down and try like hell to fall asleep. Most often it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. Once I blatantly told him, I didn’t want to and he flipped out, and ALMOST made me send someone else to jail. Thankfully, he didn’t weigh close to 300lbs like the other guy and I was easily able to get out of the house and into my car.
There were other times as well. We’d fight and I’d yell at him and once he slapped his hand over my mouth and pinned me to the bed. It scared me and he still has claw marks on his back where I dug my (then long fake acrylic) nails into his back. I cannot count the number of times he threatened me that if I walked out that door… such and such would happen. Stupid me. I always believed him and stayed.
Flash forward 3 years. I have now been through so much (more shit than anything) with him that I literally feel like I am going bat shit crazy. Including an incident where I had severe gastro esophageal and intestinal issues where a rectal exam was required and my husband came unglued because the doctor that performed the exam was a man. Let’s just say I got an earful for days and then silent treatment and then it was ALL MY FAULT. Again. So, here I am going BAT SHIT CRAZY. I can’t handle the guilt, the miscommunication, the threats to leave me and find someone better, the threats to go back to Mexico and then the groveling and the despair and the depression when I tell him to go ahead. I can’t do it anymore, and so I lie. I lie and say I have a health condition that is making me move to Washington to be with my family. I needed to get out. I needed to get away. I didn’t want to be with him anymore.
And so I moved in July of 2005. 1000 miles to live away from my mom and my sister and everything I knew. To live with my grandparents (like my second set of parents) in Washington state. The problem was he followed me. Oh no, not physically but by phone, by letters. He followed me. I tried to date others but felt guilty knowing he would be calling me constantly. Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you with? I tried changing my number but ended up having to call him to get something back from him. He visited me a couple times in Washington after I had rented my own apartment.
How I wish now that the move to Washington had severed all ties. (Except my girls. I will never regret my girls) In November 2005 he proposes to me and like the eternal idiot I am, the glutton for punishment and the lack of ability to learn from my mistakes I accept. He then goes to Mexico for an undetermined amount of time and I have to see how to get him back into the United States legally. Eventually I am able to get an application for a fiancé VISA in to United States Citizenship and Immigration Services only to be told it may take up to 6 months to get an interview at the consulate.
I was let go of my then fabulous job in December 2005 and after being invited (KEY WORD INVITED) decided to take a journey to Mexico to teach English and live with him and his family until his interview. Living with his family was hard. He spent much of his time worshipping his mother (oh, oops. Excuse me, his mooommmyyyy) and when he wasn’t worshipping her (including a night where he actually didn’t tell me where he was and spent the night in his mom and sister’s room telling ‘stories about his childhood’. When I got mad he just got madder and so ensued another fight fest) he was berating me for not helping her around the house, cooking, washing the dishes, washing the clothes etc. He spent a lot of time with ‘the guys’ and not a lot of time with me. So I was stuck in a 7x7 room for much of 6 months listening to music, trying to get online through the crappish dial up internet and hoping not to get sucked dry of blood by the monstrous Mexican mosquitoes.
While I was in Mexico, he had his family building an addition to the house and they poured the foundation while I was there. Unfortunately, the foundation was to cover the roof of the garage that held his semi truck and so it was nearly 15 feet in the air. The ladders to get to the hardened foundation were very wobbly and sometimes buckled under even his slight weight of 150lbs. I then, was somewhere between 260-280 and when I refused to climb the stairs he got mad at me. No not mad. Furious. He shoved me in all directions, telling me I was ungrateful. That I didn’t appreciate the work he’d done. He spit in my face that I was worthless and I should just go home. MAN I WISH I HAD.Sadly, at one point during my stay there I got a wonderful e-mail from my Uncle (who is married to my mom’s sister) At the end it said, LOVE, UNCLE E. My husband flipped out. How could a man who was not of blood relation tell me he loved me?!?!?! I saw nothing wrong with it. But he continued pestering me, even went to his family and THEY AGREED WITH HIM. He told me I needed to write back to my uncle telling him that that was inappropriate and like the marionette I was, I did. I sent him a long hurtful letter per my husbands request and it hurt my relationship with my uncle for a looonnggg time. I regret that verrrry much.
Long boring story short. He gets his VISA. We come home to the States, get married and life moves on. The first year of our marriage is pretty uneventful. We get jobs, lose jobs, my grandpa helps us consolidate our debt not once but twice and life moves on. Then his 17 and 18-year-old nephews move into town. HIS ILLEGAL ASS NEPHEWS. He moves them in with us. Uhhh… let’s just say this caused A LOT A LOT A LOT OF PROBLEMS. I could write a novel on all the problems this caused.
In June 2007 I find out I am pregnant. I tell him. He isn’t as excited as I’d hoped. In fact his reaction is pretty anti-climactic. I proceed to lose the baby in August.
I have a D&C (when the scrape or vacuum *in my case vacuum* and flush the inside of your uterus) I didn’t want him there. He is upset because I told him it was no big deal and to go ahead and go to work.
On October 13th, my 23rd birthday I find out I am pregnant again. He has been such a consistent pain in my ass that I only want my mom with me for checkups and ultrasounds. Of course this pisses him off, but I don’t care.
Somewhere in my 2nd month of pregnancy we fight. We separate. He moves in with his nephews in Oregon. I live with my grandparents. He tells me he wants nothing to do with me or my baby. AGAIN HERE IS WHERE I SHOULD HAVE LEFT GOOD ENOUGH ALONE. AGGGHHH! HINDSIGHT IS 20/20.
December of 2007 we move back in together. Nothing has changed but I think it is in everyone’s best interest, especially our future baby that we stay together. Life resumes as normal.
June 2008 my oldest (Buzzy) is born. My husband wasn’t there. He chose to go to Mexico for his brother’s wedding instead, knowing I was close to my due date. His brother who has been with his ‘wife’ for more than 30 years and who has 6 children with her, one of which is living with us!!
October 2008 we get into a fight. It has to do with the fact that I am trying to get her to sleep without a bottle and she is crying. He doesn’t want to hear her cry. He gets violent while I am holding my 4 month old baby pushing and shoving and yelling in my face. Tells me I am a horrible mother, tells me I’m worthless and ungrateful and a bitch. He tells me he’s going to move back to Mexico. I tell him ADIOS. He corners me (still holding Buzzy) and tries to take her out of my arms. Nuh uh. You didn’t just do that. He is scaring me. I don’t know how but I somehow get him out of the room and lock the door. I call my mom who comes and takes Buzzy for me. Things are talked out, straightened out and set in order BUT NOT FIXED. NEVER FIXED.
November 2008 I find out I am pregnant with #2. He is a bit happier about this one. God only knows why. He pays even less attention to me and my pregnancy with this baby. I prefer to take my mom still to checkups and ultrasounds.
December 2008 is Buzzy’s first Christmas. My husband chooses to spend it with his nephews and not with us. We have been snowed in by a blizzard at my mom’s house. He is able to drive and drives to work still every day but refuses to visit.June 2009 Buzzy turns 1. I throw her a party with my family. He is invited and so is his family. They show. They bought her nothing.
August 2009 Breezely is born. The night of her birth my I get emotional because Buzzy is at home with my mom and my gramma and she is having a hard time without me. I ask my husband to go be with her and he says he needs to eat first. Knowing him this could be a long long event. I tell him he needs to go be with his daughter and that he needs to set his priorities straight. He goes off on me. Tells me I am a horrible mother, tells me I am intolerable, and stupid and a bitch. Yes, he tells me this the night I give birth to his second daughter.
September 2009 we do not celebrate his birthday.
October 2009 he does not celebrate my birthday but my family makes me dinner.
November 2009 he is a no show for Thanksgiving (understandably). Early November we have another fight. This one goes too far. He is lying with Buzzy trying to get her to go to sleep. She is crying because she wants me. He asks her if she wants to go outside. She says yes. He tells her it’s too late. I tell him he shouldn’t offer something if he doesn’t intend to do it. He tells me to mind my business. I tell him he has recently told me to correct him if he needs correcting in regards to his parenting skills. He tells me I know nothing. I tell him to forget it and I’ll put her to sleep. I lay down with her. He keeps talking, insults etc. I tell him to get out. He jumps up standing on the bed and starts swinging his arms around and mocking me making faces that scared me, so I can only imagine what Buzzy was thinking. I tell him to get out. He says it’s his apartment and he pays for it. We lie in silence for a bit until Buzzy falls asleep and then he starts another tirade. I get up, (holding Breezely who is all of 3 months old in my arms – sound familiar?) open the bedroom door and tell him to get out again. He jumps off the bed and gets in my face. Yells in it. I don’t remember what. I try to move him out the door so he doesn’t wake Buzzy and he shoves me back smashing me and Breezely against the doorframe and busting my middle finger in the process. I threaten to call the cops. He tells me to go ahead but then takes my phone before I can reach it. The yelling/bickering ensues and at various different moments he lifts his fist as if to punch me, but doesn’t, wraps his hands around my neck but doesn’t squeeze, smashes me against the hallway wall once again and all the while he is yelling at me. BY NOW I’M DONE. Late November we sell everything (despite his begging and pleading not to) and move into my mom’s house.
December 2009 he is a no show for Christmas. So now neither Breezely nor Buzzy have ever spent Christmas with their dad even though he was invited again and again. I did my part but am secretly glad he didn’t come.
January 2010 starts operation NEW ME. I will no longer be a victim of HIM or of my FAT.
Up to now he sees them on Monday’s when he has the day off. Sometimes he says he can’t and that’s ok. Right now we have no set dates or times for his visitation. Now his dad is very ill and I posted HERE the text conversation regarding his ability to see his girl the day before he left.
So yesterday this is the text conversation that ensued. I’m so tired of it all. So tired.
**Reminder this is translated from Spanish to English (because I speak Spanish fluently now and he still doesn’t speak jack shit (and no I am not referring to THEE JACK SH*T OF BLOGGERDOM) of the English language.
Me: How is your dad?
Him: He’s very sick. How are my daughters? Send me a photo of them.
Me: Buzzy won’t let me and they’re good (insert photo of Breezely)
Him: Thank you.
Me: So are you still all angry and bothered?
**It took forever and a day for him to answer to I continued
Fine, don’t answer if you don’t want. I won’t bother you anymore. Bye.
Him: I’m eating.
**half hour later
I’m not upset anymore but my feelings are hurt.
Me: What do you mean?
Him: You preferred to make your family dinner rather than let me see my daughters knowing
that my dad is sick and I’m so sad.
Me: Ok, first, I don’t want to fight and I’m not going to repeat this. I’m only going to say it once. I wanted you to see them at 10AM so you could be with them longer. I have the obligation as their mother to maintain a healthy schedule for them. You are the one who didn’t want to see them at 10. I never forbid you from seeing them; I just asked that we see you at that time. You didn’t want to. I understand and am sorry for what you are going through but my girls are MY most important responsibility and obligation. Their health and their well being is my first priority.
Him: I never want to fight but since we got married you have always wanted to be with your family. Monday I told you I was doing something to make our financial situation right and you told me that I wasn’t doing shit and you told my mom that you don’t want to be with me anymore. I respect your decision and I don’t want to cry or suffer because of someone who doesn’t love me anymore. I only want the best for my daughters. If your grandparents give you everything I’m glad and I hope they always do. I can’t and I understand that. I only want to let you know that I’ve always loved you with all the strength of my heart and I fought to be a happy family. I’m sorry if I didn’t succeed. Maybe someone else can.
Me: Monday you told me that you were going shopping for your family. I don’t understand. How is it possible that you can buy gifts for your family but I have to beg you for money for diapers and wipes that your daughters need? They need diapers, wipes, toothpaste, shampoo, soap, and when they are teething they need things that food stamps don’t buy either. You have never offered me money for the necessary stuff. Sometimes I need to buy new bottles or binkies and clothes for the girls too and you don’t offer me money for that either. But to buy gifts for your family of course there’s money. I guess in that aspect you are the same as me. Preferring your family. But in my case it is between you and my family. If it were only between me and your family there wouldn’t be a problem. But there is a problem because you prefer your family over your daughters. It’s ok. They don’t understand thank god. But don’t think I don’t realize it. You also prefer not to see them because it’s not when it’s convenient for you. If you really wanted to see them the time wouldn’t matter because seeing them would be what is most important to you. Oh, and what I told your mom was the truth. I tried hard but I can’t tolerate the threats anymore. You’ve threatened to leave me, to be with other women, to move to Mexico and never come back. You’ve threatened me with your hands putting them around my throat. You’ve pushed me, shoved me, hit me and yelled at me and now you’re threatening me with my girls and with that I will tolerate you no longer.
Him: I don’t understand why you say I threaten you with our daughters. You want the best for them and so do I. I want the best for them like their father that I am. I haven’t said anything wrong. In respect to the gifts my nephews gave me money to buy stuff for my parents. You think that if I had money I wouldn’t give it to you and my daughters (((uh no, I don’t believe you would-sorry little interjection there))) what they need? You receive help from the government and you tell me your grandparents always give you everything. When I worked two jobs my checks from one always went to your grandpa to pay our debt ((NOT TRUE!!)) I always told you to have your grandpa give me his credit cards to pay them off ((HAHAHAHAHAHA!!)) but you never wanted to. There’s no use in continuing this conversation if we know our defects and we are going to leave it like it is. You don’t have to worry about if you need diapers or anything else that our daughters need because the judge will determine how much of my check is for you three and with pleasure I will give it. With the same pleasure I will see my daughters the days he gives me to see them.
Me: The government pays my food, nothing else. Regarding my grandpa, he has been paying our debt for years now and he can’t just give you his credit cards to pay off. If it were so easy I am sure he would but it isn’t. And you scare me regarding our girls. You once told me you would never take them from me.
**I have issues with this. I know I sound paranoid and it’s because I am. I cannot stand the thought of my girls scared without me and crying and not being able to be there for them.
Him: You don’t need to be worried. I have never been a bad person you have just seen me that way. God knows how much I have asked to have sufficient money to give you better lives but I wasn’t able to and I asked you for patience. Thank you for being sincere with my mom, telling her that you don’t want to be with me anymore. Just think, I’m not going to be a burden in your life anymore.
Me: I’m also scared for the girls. I know what it’s like in court. I don’t want what is between us to hurt them.
Him: We won’t take them to court (huh?) They can stay with your family. I’m going to sleep
now. Good night.
Me: Good night.
And so I am left with this amazing sense of confusion. Confusion and sadness for my girls and loneliness because no one can live with me through what I’m living through. I HAVE to go it alone. There is no other option. I’m sure I will be writing more about this soon and I'm sorry if this blog isn't exactly upbeat lately... I promise there will be more positive posts in the future! Stay tuned.
The Fat Chick